


This Is Me

by Frumpologist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Positive, Cedric Lives, Cute Boys Crushing Hard, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Football, Forgiveness, Hint of Angst, Love at first sight-ish, Muggle Adjacent, Romance, Thicc Millicent, Thirty Flirty and Thriving, Women empowering women, hand holding, this is literally just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist
Summary: All Millie wanted was a fresh cup of coffee, but when she entered The Grind, she got a lot more than she ever thought she needed.
Relationships: Millicent Bulstrode/Cedric Diggory
Comments: 29
Kudos: 70
Collections: Fuck Your Gender Roles





	This Is Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [granger_danger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/granger_danger/gifts).



> Many thanks to mcal for giving this a glance and for being my fluff-fest sounding board!
> 
> To a beautiful soul on her birthday: Granger_Danger, I hope you have the loveliest of days and that this fluff fest makes you smile a little. You’re such a treasure in this fandom and I’m so glad to call you friend. Much love to you! <3

_When the sharpest words wanna cut me down  
I'm gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out  
I am brave, I am bruised  
I am who I'm meant to be, this is me  
Look out 'cause here I come  
And I'm marching on to the beat I drum  
I'm not scared to be seen  
I make no apologies, this is me  
**—This Is Me, Keala Settle  
The Greatest Showman**_ **  
**

  
  
  


Turning thirty was freeing.

She no longer cared about silly house sortings at school. Nor what her mother thought of her clothing choices. Nor who befriended whom. If she heard whispering behind her back, she simply gave the two-finger salute— _ oh _ , her mother had been so angry when she’d saluted Narcissa Black, of all people.

Millicent was free to do as she pleased.

And what she really wanted, more than anything, was a massive, dark roast with cream and sugar.

Not tea. Not elvish wine. Not firewhisky.

Honest-to-Merlin specialty blend coffee. From the Muggle part of London.

So, she simply  _ went _ .

Sunglasses perched on her wide nose, curly black hair tied up in a messy knot on her head, and the darkest plum lipstick she owned swiped  _ twice _ over her lips. Millicent strolled through Muggle London with Muggle earbuds in her ear and enjoyed  _ Pumped Up Kicks _ blasting through the speakers.

She hardly realized she’d made it to The Grind. Would have missed it entirely had it not been for the soothing, nutty aroma wafting through the air. Her lips lifted in an anticipatory smile as she entered the cafe.

“Hey Millie!”

The baristas knew her by name. Should have indicated she may have a slight addiction… oh well.

“Hey Siobhan.” Millie popped her earbuds out and stuffed them in the pocket of her faded denims. She leaned on the counter and perched her sunglasses on top of her head. “Specials today?”

“Oh, lad, you’re in for a treat today.” Siobhan was everything Millie wanted to be: short, slight, with brilliant blue hair and creamy skin. Her bubblegum pink smile overtook her entire heart-shaped face as she pointed to various carafes behind the counter. “Peruvian, blueberry, and,” she leaned in conspiratorially with a little smirk, “Valhalla.”

“Sorted!” Millie smiled triumphantly and withdrew her zebra-print clutch from within her pink hobo bag. It had taken her ages to figure out Muggle currency, but once she had—well, mother would have been begging Merlin to the high heavens for mercy on her soul. She popped a few quid in Soibhan’s hand. “Cream, sugar, and a pump of vanilla, please.”

“Coming right up,” Soibhan said, closing the till with her hip and turning around to blend the perfect cuppa.

  
Honestly, the barista was a lifesaver. Millie loved this place, but especially loved the unfettered friendship she’d cultivated with Soibhan. It was like a lifeline to the Muggle world, having someone who didn’t know all the things she’d seen and done in the past.

Watching the steam rise from her soon-to-be coffee, Millicent’s mouth filled with saliva. It had been  _ days _ since she’d had a proper coffee. She looked forward to nothing else quite so excitedly.

“Excuse me,” a baritone voice murmured just over her shoulder.

Feeling the body heat pouring off him and stiffening at his proximity, she turned her cheek over her shoulder. Her gaze was met with a broad chest, a deep hollow at the base of his throat, and a sharp jaw that Millie was fairly certain could cut diamonds. It wasn’t until her gaze moved up and up that she found his coffee-colored,  _ familiar _ eyes staring down at her.

“Cedric Diggory?”

“Millicent Bulstrode?”

The silent, breathless moment seemed to last forever.

They both spoke at the same time.

“What—”

They waited, then spoke again.

“Why—”

And again.

“How—”

Cedric’s face broke into a wide, crooked grin. She couldn’t stop the little laugh that escaped through her quirked lips. He gestured a hand for her to continue, and as her gaze flickered over his impossibly handsome, should-be-dead, face, Millie wondered how the hell this could even be real life. Nearly fifteen years had passed since the last time she saw him, and it was like no time at all passed; her belly flipped, hands perspired, heart thunked to an erratic beat.

Coffee was probably a terrible idea now.

Still, she had so many questions. Licking her lip, she locked eyes with him again and inhaled sharply through her nose. 

“How are you  _ alive _ ?”

She hadn’t meant for it to come out quite so direct, and judging by the way his eyebrows jumped towards his hairline, he hadn’t expected her question. Stupid really; of course she’d ask that—who wouldn’t after everything that had happened?

A throaty chuckle filled the slight gap between them as Cedric raised a hand to rake through his floppy hair. Merlin, he was still a sodding dreamboat and a half. Did he just… stop aging? As she got lost in her silly school girl crush, Cedric leaned on the counter beside her and dropped his voice to a whisper.

“Maybe we can discuss it over coffee?” His eyes darted towards Soibhan, who proffered the delicious, and not at all necessary for an energy jolt, coffee to Millie. “Probably not the right place to talk about… things.”

“Right.” She nodded more to herself than him and blankly took the coffee she’d been looking forward to all week without so much as a glance at her. “Thanks, Soibhan.”

“Hey Cedric,” Soibhan greeted him as if he were an old friend, just as she’d greeted Millie when she’d walked through the door. It was seriously disorienting and she vaguely wondered if Cedric felt the same. “The usual?”

Without missing a beat, eyes still intently focused on Millie, Cedric inclined his chin. “Please.”

She brought the piping hot coffee to her lips, just to have something to do, and winced as it burned her tongue. Didn’t stop her from taking a second sip. Or a third. Also gave her a reason to dip her eyes away from him, to gather her racing thoughts as they waited what felt like a damn eternity for his “usual” coffee.

Whatever she’d stumbled upon today, Mille was abso- _ fucking _ -lutely convinced her entire life had just changed.

Cedric led her to a little table for two nestled in a cozy corner decorated with bright green plants and rustic signs that read inspirational things like  _ Life Happens, Coffee Helps _ .

He pulled out a chair and Millie was prepared to take the opposite, until he cleared his throat and gestured for her to sit in the chair with his hand wrapped around the back.

Well,  _ shit _ .

She hadn’t been prepared for Pureblood mannerisms in the middle of sodding London. Eyeing him warily, earning another one of those heart stopping chuckles, she took the seat and squeezed her eyes shut.

Clearly she was dreaming.

It was the only explanation.

“You know, pretending I’m not here won’t make it true.” He laughed over the scuffling of the chair over the floor as he dragged his seat forward. Long fingers curling over his cup, Cedric brought the paper cup to his lips and smirked around the lid as a blush spread over her cheeks.

“That’s not—” Eyes narrowing, she realized he was teasing her and she shook her head. “You’re as exhausting as ever. Are you going to tell me how exactly you’re…” Millie waved her hand vaguely around the shape of his person, “here?”

So, he did. A long and complicated conversation that involved magic Millie had no idea existed, born of a desperate father and what she was certain was an illegal ritual. He hadn’t said it in so many words, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been surrounded by wizards breaking the law nearly her entire life. She nodded where appropriate, blinked as he told her that he’d never felt comfortable entering back into the wizarding world, and so here he was: living his dream career in professional football.

Of course he was. He was fit as hell. She could tell, even ignoring the way his biceps strained in his plain white tee, he looked rock solid. It was obscene.

This whole morning was obscene.

She still hadn’t figured out what the universe was playing at.

Her luck, it was nothing good.

Silence fell between them again and Millie wondered if Cedric found it as comfortable as she did, just sitting with him here in the Muggle world sipping at delicious coffee and discussing the wizarding world as if it were something to escape rather than to admire.

She smiled to herself, or so she thought.

His fingers tapped against his cup, lips pursed. “What?”

“I was just thinking about how comfortable this is. Being with you outside of… everything.” Hesitantly, Millie chewed on her lip and then added, “I haven’t been comfortable in our world for a very long time.”

Cedric’s head jerked in an understanding nod, hand playing with his cup. Must be empty, Millie thought, and then spiraled into thoughts of when it was appropriate to leave, or if she should stay, or where they go from here, and whether she was supposed to forget he existed, or what any of this meant.

“Maybe it has less to do with where you’re at,” he ventured after a few beats of silence, “and more to do with who you’re with.”

Millie was about nine hundred percent sure she was being pranked.

There was no way this was real.

To prove herself right, she reached for visible skin on her arm and twisted her fingers into it hard. Wincing, she cursed under her breath and leaned back in her chair. She watched Cedric closely as he watched her with that damnable crooked grin on his face. He was dizzying; the whole morning set her off kilter. All she wanted was coffee and now…

Merlin, he was still so handsome. Older, with little lines at the corner of his eyes and the shadow of scruff on his jaw. But still, the confident posture, the way his dimple deepened when he was amused, the bright attentive sparkle of his eyes— _ ugh _ , it had to be the universe screwing with her.

Had to be.

“You want to get out of here?”

Millie startled, eyes widening as she wondered if she’d made that up, too. “I’m sorry, what? Can you say that again?”

“I have to grab a few things from the pitch, but I’m not quite ready to say goodbye to you.”

“Oh.” The sound of her name on his lips did stupid things to her insides. Heat flooded her cheeks again and she pretended to drink from her empty coffee cup to buy herself time to formulate some type of answer that didn’t sound like pathetic gibberish. “So, you want me to walk with you to work?”

Cedric stood; he was bloody tall. Like a sturdy tree. Millie gulped, looking up at him through her thick lashes as he spoke. “Walk, take the tube, maybe grab a bite to eat for lunch?”

“Like a date?”

It flew out of her mouth before she could stop it and all she wanted to do was thwap her head against the thick wooden table. For Merlin’s sake, could she, just for once in her life, have a filter? She was torn between making a mad dash for the door and simply imploding when his melodic laugh snagged her attention.

Imploding, it was.

“Only if you agree to allow me to take you on a second, proper date, tonight?”

Was he—oh,  _ bollocks _ , he  _ was _ flirting. Millie opened her mouth, closed it, willed the universe to just do her in already, then opened her mouth again. A choked sound left her, and she swallowed hard.

“Did you just ask me on  _ two  _ dates? On the same day?”

The dusting of pink across his nose was so endearing and settled her rioting heart by a minuscule amount.

“Yeah. Appears so,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Obviously, we can part now and promise never to speak of one another ag—”

“No!” She thrust her hands out in front of her as if she were trying to stop a boulder from crushing her. Cursing under her breath, she placed her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. “I mean, that sounds… nice.”

Cedric’s face lit up in a brilliant, deep-dimpled smile, and Millie was positive the universe was screwing with her when he reached his hand out and captured her fingers between his.

* * *

Millie had never been in Muggle London for so long. If her mother could see her—no, she wasn’t going to go there. She wasn’t going to ruin this… whatever  _ this _ was. Currently, she was strolling down the pavement hand-in-hand with the ridiculously cute and talkative, once-dead Cedric Diggory.

His entire aura bursted with bright and happy colors, as if he were the most carefree person on the planet. And she just couldn’t understand it. He seemed so unencumbered, so perfectly at ease with the fact that he was holding her hand and explaining to her the benefits to owning a flat on the east side versus the west and what it meant for his commute to the football grounds and how he’d once taken Siobhan to a match and—

He just didn’t ever stop bloody talking.

Which was fantastic, because it meant that Millie barely had a chance to put her foot all the way in her mouth by saying something mental. Like now. When she’d pointed out that there was a secret entrance to Knockturn Alley hidden in Piccadilly Circus.

Of all the things she could have pointed out, the one that reminded Cedric of who she had been at Hogwarts was not the thing she wanted to lead with. And yet, there they were, having conversations Millie scarcely had outside of therapy.

“Everything changed after…” She bit her cheek and peered at him out of the corner of her eye. He hadn’t been shy talking about his death, so Millie stole a deep breath and carried on with more strength than she felt. “Mates I’d had through school changed over summer— got the Mark, or  _ worse _ . And we were warned about what it would mean for our families if we tried to get out, and so we were stuck and in seventh year,  _ he _ controlled the school and well… survival mode, I guess.”

With a lame shrug, Millie prepared herself for Cedric dropping her hand and jogging away from her as fast as his long legs would take him. Didn’t happen though, and she had to wonder if, maybe,  _ he _ was mental. Before she could question it for too long, though, Cedric stopped and yanked her into a small, cramped alleyway.

He towered over her, though really, his hair gave him an added couple of inches in height. While he didn’t look peeved or disgusted with her, there was still  _ something _ in his eyes as they flickered over her face. It was as if he were trying to choose his words carefully, and she wished to Merlin she’d had that superpower.

With a soft touch, he reached for a loose tendril of her black hair and twirled it gently around his finger. “Have you forgiven yourself, Millie? For everything you were forced to do in the name of that maniac?”

“I—” She choked on her reply.

What kind of ridiculous question was that? Forgive herself? Of course not. She’d hexed anyone who wasn’t a Pureblood during her seventh year; she’d—she’d done a lot of things that she’d never, ever dream to ask forgiveness for.

Turning her head to the side, Millie sniffed. “I was given a full pardon by the Minister of Magic.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” The tip of Cedric’s finger lifted her chin, moving her gaze back to his. Lips ticked up at the corners, he crowded her further. “Do you remember what I told you during fourth year? When I found you crying in that abandoned classroom?”

Stricken, Millie blinked, eyes growing wider. No, she hadn’t remembered that, not until just this moment as her stomach swooped and threatened to empty all over his really nice and expensive looking shoes.

_ Bollocks _ .

She’d had such a crush on him and he’d seen her crying and— _ ugh _ , hadn’t the universe had enough of torturing her?

  
Millie fidgeted with her hands and ran her tongue along her bottom lip. “This isn’t the same thing. I’m not trying to forgive someone for being mean… it’s worse than that. I wasn’t just  _ mean _ —I was awful.”

His eyes softened. “You must have been scared.”

A knot formed in her throat. “We all were. It’s no excu—”

“Of course it’s not an excuse.” Cedric’s finger trailed along her jaw, slipping the loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “But, if we are all the same person in our thirties as we were when we were teens, what a terrible life we’d have.”

Bloody Hufflepuffs.

“You forgive too easily,” she whispered with a small roll of her eyes, and she was pleased to see he saw the playfulness behind her words, accepting it with a light laugh.

“Forgiveness is good for the soul.” 

A wet laugh escaped her, despite trying to hold it back. “You’re such a Hufflepuff, even now.”

She’d never tire of the way his whole face lit up when he smiled. “Always,” he said proudly, stepping out of her personal space.

* * *

Millie had assumed incorrectly that Cedric was a professional footballer. Truly, it had been the only way she’d been able to reconcile his fit body well into his thirties, but she’d been so wrong. As they walked to the pitch, hand in hand—and she bloody well knew her palms were sweating, yet he said nothing about it—there were at least two dozen attractive, thin girls running around the pitch.

Her chin jerked in his direction, mouth dropping open. “You coach womens’ football?”

Lifting their joined hands to point, Cedric’s crooked smile proudly gestured to his team. “Yeah, the lady team is incredible, so much talent and their dedication rivals the best in the league. They aren’t even meant to practice today, and look at them.”

She was, and felt something twist inside her belly. They moved seamlessly with one another, as if they could read each other’s thoughts as they volleyed the ball amongst them. Millie had never been part of a team like this, had never wanted to be amongst so many other women—witches or otherwise—because it was messy, filled with too much drama. But this… it planted a seed, one she resolved to stew on when she wasn’t lost in awe with the wizard next to her.

“You’re full of surprises, Cedric Diggory,” Millie said, not bothering to temper the respect in her tone.

Before dropping their hands, Cedric brought them to his lips and planted a quick kiss to the back of her hand and tossed her a quick, roguish wink. Thank goodness he took off in a jog towards his team as the flaming blush crawled from her chest to her cheeks. She busied herself taking in the impressive pitch; she’d never been to one, had only watched matches on a small telly in a Muggle pub.

The grounds were bright green, greener even than the grass at the most well kept manors in the wizarding world. It was utterly gorgeous, as was the man corralling his team on their day off. She didn’t have to see Cedric’s face to know he was smiling; it radiated around him like the brightest aura. And the girls all looked pumped to have him there; all smiles and frenetic energy as they huddled around him.

Cedric’s deep voice called halfway across the pitch. “Millie? Want to meet the ladies?”

Under normal circumstances, Millie would have walked away, turned right around and went back to her townhouse to face her mother rather than a couple dozen young adult girls who all looked stupidly fit and beautiful. But, as it were, she couldn’t quite disentangle herself from the way Cedric spoke her name, nor the ease with which he’d kissed her hand and offered her the one thing she’d wanted more than anything these last twelve years: forgiveness.

Steeling herself with a fortifying breath, Millie stuffed her hands into her pockets, fiddling with the long cord of her earbuds, and loped towards them. As she reached Cedric’s side, he placed a hand on her lower back and tugged her closer to his side. If any of the girls questioned his choice in companion, Millie couldn’t see it on their faces.

“Millie, meet the Lionesses—up and coming talent in the womens’ league. Lionesses, this is my friend, Millie.”

_ Friend _ .

Merlin, she was friends with Cedric Diggory.

What bloody planet was she on?

She lifted a hand, waving awkwardly as they greeted her in various accents and all with one thing in common: their wide, welcoming smiles.

“Care to play a bit, Millie?” One of the girls offered, holding up a football. “We’ve got spare kits in the changing rooms.”

The cord of her earbuds was so tightly wrapped around her pointer finger that Millie was certain she was cutting off its circulation. Her heart thumped wildly in her throat. Comfort was a thing she’d worked very hard to attain in her twenties. At thirty, she was comfortable in her skin, but then… she’d never been presented with  _ this _ : to wear a kit revealing so much next to much more attractive girls wearing the same thing. This thing with Cedric—if you could call it a thing at all—was preciously new, tenuous even. Was she prepared for him to see far more of her than she’d let anyone else see before the third date? Chewing on her lip, Millie realized silence hung in the air, waiting for her answer.

And then there was the tiny detail that she’d never actually  _ played _ football before. Sure, she’d watched a few matches, had the faintest idea that she’d have to kick the ball, but she had no hustle, hated to run, and her aim was truly shit.

But the way Cedric looked at her—a curious pull to his eyebrows, a small lift of his lips, that damned sparkle in his hazel eyes—had Millie agreeing with a jerky bob of her head before she had the bloody sense to stop herself.

“Wicked!”   
  


“Take her back to the changing rooms, Diaz.”

“Excellent!”

“Coach, you wanna play?”

As Millie was dragged away by the hand, she glanced over her shoulder to find Cedric’s gaze locked on her. If she hadn’t been mistaken, he’d been staring at her arse. Her eyes widened and she caught the slight huff of a nervous laugh on his lips before turning around and scurrying after Diaz to the changing rooms.

* * *

Sure, she’d had to enlarge the kit a little bit when Diaz wasn’t looking, but overall, Millie was amazed how comfortable she felt in the little shorts and form-fitting shirt. Whereas she had always been at home in clothes a size too big, somehow this kit felt… freeing. Her shoes were all wrong and of course she’d been wearing mismatched socks today of all days, but she muttered to herself as she glanced at herself up and down in the mirror that she wasn’t here trying to impress anyone.

“This is me,” she whispered, tying her hair into a tighter knot at the top of her head.

With a curt nod at her reflection, she marched to Diaz who hung by the door. 

As they strolled back onto the pitch, Millie’s throat went dry at the sight of Cedric changed out of his Muggle jeans and into shorts and a jersey and  _ fuck her _ , he was even more stacked than she’d thought. He was all broad shoulders and hard lines she could see through the thin material of his shirt, and when she dropped her eyes to try and avoid a heated blush, she saw his shoes and nearly choked at the size of his feet.

Because of  _ course _ , he’d be packing in that department, too.

She was in way over her head.

But, it was too late now.

In for a sickle, in for a galleon and all that rot.

“Look at you,” Cedric greeted her with a crooked grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Said eyes blazed a languid trail from her mismatched socks to still manic face, and she was grateful she had peeled her eyes away from his bits. “Keep the kit. It suits you.”

Suddenly, she felt like the most beautiful girl in the world. Confidence coursed through her veins, presenting as a wide smile. “Suppose I’ll wear this on our date tonight, then.”

His laugh—Merlin, it was like a symphony just for her. “If you think I’m going to try and talk you out of it, you’re dead wrong.”

Cedric held his hand out to her and dragged her to where the team stood waiting. They said a whole bunch of things that made little sense to her, but she caught the gist: kick the ball, pass it, and try to make it go in the net. Easy enough.

Or so she thought.

She ran around in circles for what felt like hours, but in reality had been around eleven minutes. Somehow she’d been from one end of the pitch to the other and still hadn’t figured out how to go about getting the ball, let alone to run and to kick it at the same time.

Cedric, though.

Millie could watch him play football with his team all day and never grow bored. There was something about his windswept hair and deep red cheeks, the way his shining white teeth parted over a full belly laugh when he nearly collided with one of the ladies. He wasn’t just playing around—Cedric was truly enjoying himself, and his happiness was palpable.

“On your left, Mills!”

_ Mills _ .

She had a nickname!

So overcome with having a nickname, besides Millie because it was to save everyone from the mouthful of her full name, Millie nearly missed the ball as it raced towards her. Much to her surprise, she caught it with the tip of her shoe and watched as it careened away from her. Not for long though; a burst of energy zipped through her as she took off after it, pushing it along at high speed towards the goal where one girl stood with a blinding, challenging smile on her face.

“C’mon, Mills!”

Again! Apparently, she was  _ Mills _ now and, oh, her heart soared with delight.

She brought her foot back, eyes on the ball, and chewed on her lip as she nailed it right in its center.

Everything stopped.

Wind rushed by her ears. Her heart thudded wildly.

The ball went up and up and up and— _ oh, bugger _ .

It zoomed over the left corner of the net.

“Ah, fuck it,” she cursed, slamming her foot into the pristine grass.

Millie didn’t have much of a chance to drown in her sorrow over missing the goal, though. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her torso and nearly bowled her over with their force. Cedric’s cheerful laugh surrounded her as he pressed his chin into her shoulder and planted a kiss right on her cheek.

There was no time to question it, no time to worry about it. Millie’s face broke out in the most honest grin she’d ever worn as she planted her hands on top of his and held him closer.

“Not half bad,  _ Mills _ ,” he teased her sweetly. “Might make a footballer of you yet.”

Time meant nothing to her after that. They played, tackled one another, laughed and had a brilliant time chasing each other up and down the pitch. 

Millie had never felt so carefree in her entire life.

* * *

The changing room emptied out, and it was only then that Millie peeled the kit off her sticky body and stepped into the steaming, hot shower spray. What a surprise the day had been; she’d just been going for her weekly coffee and there she was, showering after playing football, making an entire team’s worth of new friends, and feeling the flutters of nervousness before having dates—plural—with her former teenage heartthrob.

It was too bizarre to even dream. Not that she hadn’t tried to pinch herself awake several times, of course. Who wouldn’t, with Cedric Diggory’s flirtatious eyes and words focused on them? As she lathered up, she replayed the entire morning back, wondering if maybe she’d misinterpreted the signs.

But they were clear.

He was clear.

No misunderstanding the way he’d held her hand. Or the way his breath fanned over her face. The way his eyes jumped between her eyes to her lips. The groan of disappointment as the team called the game. How his hand had fisted at her lower back, pulling the cotton shirt tighter around her stomach. Nor the way his voice had whispered that he couldn’t wait to take her out later. Uninterrupted.

If she weren’t in a public shower, Mille would have a wank over just the sound of his thick voice promising an uninterrupted night.

As it were, she finished up her quick wash and grabbed the towel hanging close by.

A wank would have to wait.

First, she had a date.

With the towel wrapped tightly around her body, Millie found the locker where she’d stored her clothes. As she reached for her shirt, an amused voice echoed through the room and startled her, nearly causing her to drop the towel.

“That might be the most fun I’ve had playing football.”

Millie spun around, trying to place his voice. Did he always frequent the girls’ changing rooms or was he expecting something now that they were alone? Her thoughts raced towards all the worst case scenarios. She couldn’t see him, though.

“Where are you?” she asked, trying desperately to keep her voice steady, wondering if the entire day was going to go to shit in one fell swoop.

“Around the corner,” he laughed. “Just making sure I hadn’t scared you off.”

He’d worried about her ditching him? Was this even real life? She tried her best to keep an even tone, to tuck the shock away for another time. “Right. I’ll be done in a few. Just want to, er… pop clothes on?”

“I’ll wait on the pitch—take your time.”

“Alright.”

“Oh, and Mills?”

There was that swooping feeling again. “Yeah?”

“I meant what I said: keep the kit.”

Collapsing onto the bench behind her, Millie sat and grinned down at her bare feet for ages before she could put an end to the giddy feeling parading around her nerves. He couldn’t be real. No bloody way.

She was fucking gone for him, enough said.

* * *

  
His flat was cozy in a way she wouldn’t have imagined. For some reason, she’d expected socks strewn about the room, stinky shoes at the entryway, minimal decor and dark colors. Instead, Cedric’s home smelled of spiced citrus, there were no dirty clothes to speak of, and everything was brightly decorated. Artwork lined the eggshell colored walls from his entryway into the main room. It was like stepping into a catalogue.

Merlin, if he’d gone to her bedroom at her mum’s townhouse instead, she’d have been embarrassed at the state of it. She briefly wondered which pair of knickers were hanging from the door handle. There wasn’t time to dwell, though. Cedric caught her hand and led her through his home to the kitchen.

Millie’s gaze snagged on a vase of continuously blooming flowers that sat in the middle of his kitchenette. She’d never seen anything quite so beautiful—they blossomed different colors each time, changing before her eyes to the beat of her breath.

She reached for the flowers, but they shivered and shrunk away. “So when you said have a bite for lunch, you meant takeaway at yours?”

“Not takeaway, no.” Cedric gestured for her to take a seat and then began flitting about the space, from fridge to stove and back again. “Thought I’d cook something up, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh.” She stared at her hands, flattened on the table. “You cook. Is there anything you don’t do?”

That earned her a laugh as he glanced over his shoulder at her. “I could have gotten takeaway, but why pass up an opportunity to impress you?”

“I…” she cleared her throat, suddenly dry. He wanted to impress her. As if he hasn’t been doing that all morning.

What bizarro alternate dimension had she fallen into when she crossed into the Muggle world this morning?

“Allergic to anything?”

She shook her head blankly. “Er, no.”

Cedric practically danced around the kitchen as he threw things together. She wasn’t even sure what they were going to eat, but was so enraptured by watching the way he moved around, completely at ease being watched as he assembled lunch. When he set a plate filled with pasta on the table in front of her, saliva filled her mouth.

They chatted more while they ate; Millie caught him up on everything to do with all the changes that had happened in Diagon Alley over the years—Fortesques had closed, but was replaced with Sonorus, her music shop. He listened— _ really listened _ —as she talked about owning a business and the hoops the Ministry put her through for the past five years.

And he seemed interested, pointing out the inconsistencies in the law for her versus the Weasley boys who didn’t need quite as many references or a deposit.

The more she talked, the more comfortable she became, until she was tripping over her own words in excitement to say them. It took her far too long to realize she’d stopped eating completely, which would have been difficult anyway with the way Cedric’s hand topped hers between their plates. His thumb stroked the back of her hand and it threw her completely off.

“And, er…” Glancing to their hands, Millie trailed off. “I completely forgot what I was going to say.”

Cedric squeezed her hand, a light pressure that sent her heart whirring. “You said you preferred Foster the People to WZRD because wizard rock leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Right.” Nodding her head, she slowly raised her eyes back to his. “So, Sonorus brings in the best from Muggle and Wizarding music,” she finished lamely.

Her market was niche, of course, and almost never a Pureblood audience. But, she’d found comfort in her Halfblood heritage and had come to enjoy the sheer elation she’d see on the faces of her Muggleborn or Halfblood customers.

Suddenly, her hand was colder and Cedric stood from the table, reaching for her half-eaten plate of food. “It must’ve taken a lot of great charm work to get the Muggle radios to work near so much magic.”

Excitement flared in Millie’s chest. She rose from her seat to follow Cedric to the sink where he’d begun washing dishes, towel slung over his shoulder. No one ever asked about the work involved, but it was her favorite part.

“The reason that Wizards struggle to make Muggle electronics work is because of the way that magic interacts with electricity. The charges go haywire around each other, so the first thing I had to do was dampen the electricity used to power the radios.”

Millie plucked the towel from Cedric’s shoulder and began drying the dishes as he finished washing them. Every time he’d glance at her from the corner of his eye, heat would creep onto her cheeks—she couldn’t look away from him as she explained the finer points of her job.

“Once I had the electricity from the machine neutralized—”

“How did you do that?”

“It was a lot of trial and error,” she explained, setting the last of the dry dishes aside as Cedric turned and leaned against the edge of the sink. He looked at her as if she were…  _ something _ ; she couldn’t really place it. It did strange things to her insides, but she carried on anyway, ignoring the way her arms broke out in goose pimples. “At first I tried to cast Silencio, but that muted the whole system. What I needed was a way to stop the radio from translating electricity so that I could use magic to—”

All the air from her lungs whooshed out at the feel of his lips against hers.

It lasted only a scant second, but long enough for her legs to turn to jelly and her stomach to flip. As Cedric pulled away, a small upward tug on his lips, he ran the pad of his thumb along her jaw.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all morning,” he admitted softly. “Sorry to spring it on you like that.”

“That’s okay.” Millie’s heart fluttered, finding a new home inside her throat. Her former teenage self was raving in her mind, screaming that, after all this time, she finally knew precisely how soft Cedric Diggory’s lips were, how perfectly they pillowed against her own. But, though she’d harbored feelings for him for years, she didn’t want to ruin it with too much too soon. “You don’t think this is moving too fast?”

He lifted her chin gently, flicking his eyes to hers. Sincerity shined from them, chasing away any doubts that had started to seep in. “It feels right… being with you, it feels like everything I’ve been looking for since—since I was brought back. I felt it the minute I saw you today.”

She didn’t know what to say, so Millie said nothing. Wrapping her hand around the back of his head, she dragged Cedric in for a slow kiss.

They could sort through the rest tomorrow, but for now she’d simply enjoy this foreign feeling of contentedness with the boy who’d always made her heart leap.

Yes, her thirties we’re going to be divine.


End file.
